To You, Twenty Years From Now
by Sanneke
Summary: In 870, Levi and Mikasa reunite after ten years and catch up. Levi takes on a challenge. (This work contains spoilers for the manga. There are also main character deaths, but they are only mentioned in passing.) COMPLETE


A/N: Queen Historia takes the throne after the final defeat of the Titans and spearheads huge initiatives to repopulate humanity, increase the quality of education, and advance technologically. After about 20 years, humanity is on par with the 1920s in terms of technology and fashion. The population has exploded, and consequently many have decided to settle outside the walls.

* * *

Mikasa arrives at the same time her letter said she would, stepping off the 12:37 trolley at Shiganshina Terminal. Levi is already waiting for her outside, leaning against the driver's side door of his car, a black- and maroon-lacquered monstrosity that nonetheless looks sleek and lethally fast. _Much like its driver_, Mikasa thinks as she approaches the vehicle.

Not much has changed in the years since they last saw each other. The harsh lines of their faces, hewn by hardship and hunger, have softened. Up close, Mikasa notices that Levi's dark hair is starting to fade to gray at his temples, and that it's slicked back instead of hanging in his face. He's still in a suit, formal as ever, but it's made of a light gray flannel instead of his usual dour black. Levi has made one concession to the changing times: he has switched out his cravat for a looser ascot, but the fabric is still meticulously folded and tied at his throat.

To Levi, Mikasa looks exactly the same. Well, almost. She is dressed in the current style, wearing a long boxy cobalt blue dress that falls past her knees and is bordered with a pattern of creeping vines and roses. A white cloche hat sits atop her head, decorated with a small enamel brooch shaped like a rose.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress," he says in lieu of a greeting. If Mikasa had any anxiety about things being different between them (she did, but would never admit it to herself and certainly not to him), Levi has decisively quashed it. His consistent brusqueness feels strangely comforting to her. After ten years and the world having been basically transformed, Levi is still just kind of rude.

Mikasa looks down at her frock, its embroidered hem caressing the slight swell of her calves, then shrugs. "I wore dresses before I joined the military. Now that women aren't needed as soldiers, we're back to being ornamental objects."

Levi frowns. "I've never thought of you as someone who would follow a trend just because it exists."

"I like wearing dresses," she replies, folding her arms across her chest. "Trends have nothing to do with that. It feels nice to wear something that doesn't have to serve a purpose."

"Are those _heels?_" Levi sounds incredulous, as though he cannot comprehend the thought of her feet encased in anything other than sturdy military-issue boots. After all these years, he still wears his more often than not.

"Are you mad that I'm that much taller than you?" Mikasa quips.

At that, Levi grins. "Come here," he says, opening his arms to her. Mikasa steps into his waiting embrace, feeling enveloped by his still-strong arms even though she's six inches taller than him in her shoes. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she murmurs against his shoulder. She inhales deeply, smelling the heady aroma of violets, and closes her eyes for a moment until she realizes where the scent is coming from. Mikasa pulls away, but Levi still holds her at arm's length. "Are you wearing violet hair oil?"

"So what if I am?" he responds, arching one eyebrow.

Mikasa shakes her head. "You vain motherfucker."

"Or maybe I just wanted to look good, Miss Dress and Heels. Are you trying to impress me?"

"No. Are you trying to impress me?"

"No."

"Sure you're not," Mikasa crows.

"Shut up and get in the car," Levi replies, letting go of her arms. Mikasa walks around the car slowly, admiring the slope of the hood. The car is low and long, built for speed, and gleams in the sliver of afternoon sun that peeks from behind flat gray clouds. She can easily imagine Levi spending days in his garage, meticulously rubbing the chrome with a wax-dipped rag. She trails a finger across the hood as she walks over to the passenger side, leaving a small smudge, and she swears she can see Levi's mouth twitch as she does so.

Mikasa gets in the car (noticing that Levi does not open the door for her; not that he would ever do it or that she would expect him to, but she has become used to that gesture in this new world) and settles against the maroon leather seat. She finds it terribly apt that such conspicuously plush upholstery, which seems to her to be more suited to some luxurious yet imposing seat of power, would be owned by a man so obsessed with the trappings of the wealthy. "Wait, didn't you say in your letter that you owned a small farm? What do you need this car for?"

"It's nice to drive something that doesn't have to serve a purpose," he says as he cranks the ignition. After a brief sputter, the engine purrs to life and the car starts to move.

"Where are we going?"

"It took you this long to ask? You're rusty, soldier," Levi teases.

Mikasa cocks one eyebrow at him. "No shit, Captain. It's been, what, fifteen years since the Survey Corps disbanded?"

"Thirteen." He pauses for a few moments. "Point taken. We're going to my farm. It's about twenty-five miles south of here. There are a few acres on the southern edge of the property that have a nice view of the mountains. I made a picnic lunch."

"You cook? Since when?"

"I asked Mrs. Brecht, the gamekeeper's wife, to prepare it," he admits. "She's taken on the role of my cook. But feel free to pretend I made everything and compliment me accordingly."

Mikasa snorts. "The years have made you so humble, Levi."

Levi takes his eyes off the road for a moment and smiles at her, really smiles. When he wrote to Mikasa he thought it would be nice to spend a pleasant afternoon away from the farm speaking of his army days and catching up on each other's lives, but he did not expect to be so overjoyed to see her again. She was a brat back then, sure, and even now still fairly gloomy despite her bright azure dress and those damnably impractical shoes, but it was so nice to have a reminder that someone had been there with him during those darkest times, someone who understood and maybe even missed the feeling of flying through the air, swords in hand, feeling thick Titan flesh yield beneath his blades. He still misses it sometimes, but he doesn't miss seeing his men, his friends, his lovers die before his eyes. On the farm there is no one who can understand those days, and no one who knew him as he was then. Now he is Mr. Levi, with plenty of peers and acquaintances but no true friends. He likes it that way — most of the time.

But now Mikasa is here, less than a foot away. Levi realizes he can reach out and brush her hair away from her pale cheek if he wants to. She is turned away from him, looking at the rolling hills as they pass by. They drive in companionable silence for a few miles, enjoying the mild weather and the fact that they no longer have to check around them for stray Titans — though they do, every few minutes, simply out of reflex.

"Want to see something cool?" Levi asks after a few more miles.

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling. Do you want to or not?"

Mikasa rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"Take off your hat."

"Why?"

"Just do it. And hold on to it. Trust me on this one."

"I was never good at doing that." Mikasa looks down at her lap, then back up at Levi through her dark eyelashes.

"No, and I once broke my ankle for it." Levi sees her cheeks turn pink.

"Are you going to hold that against me forever?"

He reaches over and touches her shoulder briefly. "Until well after we're both dead, Mikasa."

She lets out a sound that sounds like the distant cousin of a laugh, short and dry. "Fine." She takes off the cloche, then combs her fingers through her hair to smooth any mussed sections.

"Ready?"

"I can't be ready for something if I don't know what it is," she reminds him.

"You're still _such_ a brat," Levi says with a smirk.

Mikasa returns the wry twist of his mouth. "You're still _such_ a dick."

"I'm glad nothing has changed, then," he says, then fiddles with some buttons and levers and presses down on the gas pedal. The engine goes from a purr to a low roar as the car smoothly accelerates. Mikasa watches the speedometer pass 10 miles per hour, then 20, 30, 40. The wind whips her hair around wildly; a single strand falls from Levi's violet-oiled coif. _Meticulous bastard_, Mikasa thinks. Levi fiddles some more and the sound of the engine grows louder, blending with the thunderous sound of the wind in her ears.

The needle on the speedometer creeps up just past 60 and Mikasa feels something strange in her chest, a dislodging of something heavy and a feeling of lightness overtaking her. She closes her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of the wind against her face, when she has an epiphany: this is the closest she's come in years to the feeling of gliding through the air in three-dimensional maneuvering gear. Even in the darkest of times, through intense fatigue and the ever-present stench of death, there was still something magical about soaring across cities and through forests, aided only by wires and muscles and instinct.

"I know why you drive this car," Mikasa shouts over the roar of wind and steel.

"Why?"

"Because it's like flying again." Levi furrows his brow for a few moments as he turns the suggestion over in his mind. It seems to sit well with him; he smiles at her, then accelerates even more. They make it back to his farm in what he claims is record time.

xxxxx

Mrs. Brecht is almost a caricature of a woman, rotund and gray-headed and full of motherly cheer for Levi. He is far too old to be mothered, but Mikasa thinks it is good for him to experience it at least once in his life, even if it is forty-plus years too late. Mrs. Brecht invites Levi and Mikasa into the farmhouse kitchen — although it is more of a sweetly maternal demand that allows no room for demurral — while she finishes packing the picnic basket with sandwiches, bread, cheese, fruit, and pastries. She is elated to meet Mikasa, so much so that the younger woman is somewhat alarmed by her enthusiasm.

"I want to know all about what Mr. Levi was like back then," Mrs. Brecht says as she pours a steaming pot of black tea into a steel thermos.

"Very much the same, actually. Maybe a bit more serious, but very much the same," Mikasa replies between bites of a bun that Mrs. Brecht all but forced into her hands.

"She hated me for months when she first met me." Levi grins and pulls a biscuit out of the picnic basket a brief moment before Mrs. Brecht slaps at his hand. She glares at him, a smile on her face, then places a couple of green apples in the basket.

"Levi knocked out one of my brother's teeth."

"It grew back," Levi says after swallowing a mouthful of food.

"It grew back?" Mrs. Brecht asks, confused.

"My brother is Eren Yeager." At that, Mrs. Brecht stops packing food into the wicker basket and stares at Mikasa, trying to formulate a response. "My adoptive brother," Mikasa clarifies. "His parents took me in after I was orphaned. They were very good to me."

"And your brother's not… _that way_ anymore?"

"No. Once we defeated the Titans, all of the Titan shifters lost their ability to transform. He has a cushy job with the government and goes home to his wife and kids every night now. His wife's pregnant again. It'll be their fifth. Imagine that." Levi notices a frown briefly cross Mikasa's face, but she quickly resumes her usual impassiveness.

"What a blessing," Mrs. Brecht says, but it sounds more like a reflex than anything else.

"We should be going," Levi cuts in. "Thank you, Mrs. Brecht." He grabs the wicker basket from the table and picks up a red and black plaid blanket that has been left folded by the door.

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mikasa," she says, her voice flatter than before. Mikasa nods her thanks and follows Levi outside.

They walk a few hundred feet away from the house before Mikasa says anything. "I keep forgetting there are people who still wish Eren was dead."

"Mrs. Brecht comes from Trost. Eren did destroy part of her town."

"Right before he saved it!" Mikasa's voice is a little louder than is necessary.

Levi shrugs. "People who remember what life was like twenty years ago aren't rational about Titans. They just remember the death and destruction. They think all of the Titan shifters should have been executed, instead of just Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt."

"Historia never would have executed Ymir, even if she'd personally destroyed Wall Sina," Mikasa says, shaking her head.

"I know that. Oh, I _know_ that," Levi remarks.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I walked in on them once."

"I _knew_ something was going on between them! Either way, I'm glad she spared Eren."

"I'm sure you are," Levi says softly. Mikasa doesn't reply.

The ground is soft and slightly muddy beneath their feet. They pass orderly rows of vegetables, a small city of chicken coops, meadows full of grazing cattle and sheep. The grass is still cold and wet with dew, even in the early afternoon, and Mikasa feels it spraying the exposed tops of her feet. Mountains rise in the far distance, fading from the dark tops of pine trees to blue-gray rock to white snowy caps. Mikasa has spent the past few years living within the bounds of Wall Sina, far from the evergreen forests she called home as a child, and the sight of the landscape briefly takes her breath away. For the first time in years, she desperately misses her parents. She wonders if they would have survived the Titans long enough to see the walls coming down. She decides that she is glad they were murdered before they had an opportunity to be devoured alive.

"I was thinking we could set up over there," Levi says, pointing toward a large apple tree about two hundred yards away.

"Sounds good, Captain." Mikasa half-salutes him, pressing her right fist to her breastbone. Levi rolls his eyes at her then takes off for the tree, walking quickly. Mikasa never backs down from a challenge, even if it is an imagined one, though she has known Levi long enough that she is almost completely sure he is trying to beat her there. (She calculates the odds of him having changed in ten years, then divides it by the fact that he is the most stubborn man she has ever met and probably ever will, before coming to a conclusion.) She speeds up to a jog, quickly catching up to him, then pulls slightly ahead just to show him that she can.

"You want to race?" Levi growls, breaking into a run. Mikasa does the same.

"My legs are longer than yours," she huffs between breaths.

"I'm not wearing heels," he retorts, then speeds up some more. Mikasa follows, her heels kicking up divots of soft earth with each step. The sensible portion of her mind tells her to slow down, that the mud will ruin her shoes, that she will be the one to break an ankle this time. The portion of her mind that seemingly woke itself in Levi's car, Mikasa the ruthless soldier, tells her that she has to win.

They reach the tree at the same time, their faces flushed with exertion. A second strand of hair falls onto Levi's forehead. Mikasa feels a bead of sweat drip down past her temple.

"Competitive as ever," she notes. Levi nods and hands her the picnic basket as he spreads the blanket over the wet grass. He immediately flops down on the ground (or the best approximation he can do of flopping down on the ground, given that he is still fit, but not quite as spry as he was when she first met him twenty years earlier) and motions for Mikasa to sit. She does so, immediately unbuckling the ankle strap on her heels and easing them off. There are angry red marks on her skin where the shoes have rubbed against her flesh.

"I think we can both agree that we're not going to do that again," he says, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he speaks.

Mikasa swipes one hand across her damp forehead. "I'm not opposed to that."

After he catches his breath, Levi unpacks the basket, setting the food out in orderly rows, then pours two cups of tea from the thermos. He unwraps a sandwich from a cloth napkin and passes it to Mikasa. "Smoked ham on brown bread? There's a pot of mustard in the basket if you want it." She accepts the food with a slight nod.

"This is really good," she says after biting into the soft bread and the thick, sweet-salty ham. Levi returns her nod. Aside from their chewing, the trill of bird calls and the whoosh of the breeze blowing through the lush vegetation are the only sounds that can be heard in all directions.

After he devours a sandwich (somehow cleanly and efficiently), Levi pulls an apple from the basket. "So Eren's married, huh?" He takes a large bite, juice trickling down his chin. He wipes his face while he chews expectantly, waiting for Mikasa's response.

"Yeah," she murmurs.

"To a woman?" Mikasa nearly chokes on her sandwich. "What? I always figured he'd get hitched to Armin if not, you know, you," Levi shrugs.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Yes, he's married to a woman. They met after the war."

"And how did you handle that?" he asks, peering at her with his beady blue-gray eyes. Mikasa takes another bite and chews slowly, slowly. Even her swallowing seems unnecessarily protracted, the muscles in her throat working unhurriedly. She puts her sandwich down, then dabs at her mouth with a napkin. Levi clenches his fists, his knuckles whitening the longer he watches Mikasa's deliberate movements.

"Not well," she finally says.

"That's it?" he sputters, his voice nearly cracking. He swallows, then takes a deep breath and manages to calm himself from frustrated near-rage to aggressive sarcasm. "Not well?" he scoffs.

She exhales deeply and decides to humor him. "We didn't speak for a couple of years," she admits. "He said I needed to get over my schoolgirl crush on him."

"Did you?"

"I had to, didn't I?"

"Is that why you're not wearing your scarf?" Levi asks in a near-mumble. He knows he shouldn't ask about the missing scarf, feels it in his bones, but his curiosity overrides his sense of decorum, as it always does. His only concession to the wisdom he's gained through the years is that he's somewhat embarrassed about it — but only somewhat.

"It's _June_," Mikasa says, as though speaking to a particularly dim child. "Thankfully, the world is no longer the kind of place where I constantly need to wear a comfort object wrapped around my face." She takes one last bite of her sandwich. "It's pretty great for the winter, though," she says. Levi regards her with a lazy smile. "So what have you been up to?"

"This, mostly. Running the farm takes up most of my time."

"That's it?"

"Sorry to disappoint," he says in a tone that makes it clear that he is not sorry at all.

Mikasa pastes an exasperated smile on her face. "Do you ever speak to anyone from the Corps?"

"Once in a while. Hanji sends me letters pretty frequently, saying I need to come stay with her in the capital. She told me she heard you had lunch with the Queen recently." He looks at her as he grips his mug with his fingertips and lifts it to his mouth, taking a long drink of tea.

Mikasa shrugs. "I guess it's easy to get to her when you're friends with the Prime Minister."

"Armin's still in that job?"

"Yeah," she nods. "He's good at it. And no one else wants to do it."

Levi laughs then, throwing his head back. Mikasa looks at him strangely for a moment, her brow furrowed, before she realizes she's never really heard him laugh; not anything more exuberant than a sardonic chuckle, at least. She remembers that chuckle and how it made him seem so sly, like he was in on a joke that no one else was privy to. Now Mikasa realizes it's because he was faking his humor; what would Captain Levi Ackerman ever have to laugh about?

"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asks, his blue-gray eyes narrowed to slits. He's assessing her like they're back in battle together.

"Just realizing that I've never heard you laugh before. I mean, I've heard you laugh, but it was always so grim," Mikasa observes.

"If you haven't noticed, the world is a lot less grim these days."

"That's true. I guess I'm just satisfied with not having to fight for my life anymore that I don't concern myself with much else beyond that." She looks down at the food, hoping that Levi will think that she is merely thinking about what to eat next and not that she is temporarily unable to meet his penetrating steely gaze.

"When's the last time you laughed? Like really laughed, from deep in your belly?" he asks.

Mikasa twists her mouth in thought for a few moments. "I don't remember," she answers. "I saw a funny play a few months ago. Probably then."

"I don't think I've ever seen you actually laugh. Not once. You're always so stoic," he notes.

"Look who's talking. I was just thinking I had never seen you laugh like that before today."

Levi smiles. "It feels good to laugh. I feel like I've lightened up a bit. Part of me is always on guard, probably always will be, but I've also come to appreciate the fact that the people I know and love aren't being slaughtered left and right."

"I guess I just don't need that much. I have a job in the capital and a nice home. Small, but nice. I was thinking about getting a dog. It's good enough." Mikasa shrugs once, then busies herself peeling pieces of dough from a biscuit before putting them in her mouth.

Levi's eyes narrow. "Good enough? But what about friends? Lovers?"

Mikasa looks up at him, a flash of rage in her dark eyes. "Is that what you're getting after? Whether or not I'm fucking someone?"

"No. But admittedly, I am mildly curious," he smirks.

"_Mildly_," she repeats sarcastically. He stares at her, waiting for her to continue speaking. "No one in a long time. It's less complicated that way. After everything that's happened, I just want life to be simple."

"And lonely," he adds. Mikasa scoffs.

"What about you? That farmhouse looked pretty empty and I don't exactly see you hopping into bed with Mr. and Mrs. Brecht," she responds.

"Gross," Levi says, his nose wrinkling with disgust. "Although I was married briefly." He says it offhandedly, as though telling Mikasa the time. She chokes on her tea; an amber rivulet runs down her chin. Levi grimaces and passes her a napkin.

"You got _married_?" Mikasa sputters.

"Can you believe it?"

"Obviously not."

Levi starts to rummage in the picnic basket. Mikasa wonders whether it's because he can't bear to meet her eyes, like she did. "She was a local girl. I thought I loved her. Turns out I didn't. She ran off one night and I realized I felt more relieved than anything."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"Don't be. I'm not." His words come out in staccato bursts.

Mikasa is silent for a few moments as she watches dark gray clouds pass overhead. Although she can tell that rain is imminent, the darkening landscape is strangely beautiful, a small amount of sunlight filtering orange-brown through leaden clouds. "How long ago did she leave?" she asks almost dreamily, distracted by the sights around her.

Levi lifts his cup by the rim and raises it to his lips. "Five years."

She nods. "I could have gotten married a few years ago. Jean asked me."

He feels a sensation not unlike someone grabbing his guts and twisting slowly, a discomfort that unfurls itself through his stomach and reaches up to wrap its tendrils around his heart. "Oh?" is all he can manage.

"We never dated or anything. He told me he'd loved me for years. All that time, and I had no idea." She sighs. "I couldn't say yes to him. He loves an idea, not a person." Levi is disturbed to find himself relieved.

"Either way, I _will_ make you laugh today. Whether you like it or not. That's my mission now," he says, sipping his tea.

"Once a soldier, always a soldier."

"Life is better now. It's stupid not to enjoy it. If I have to make you, then I will."

"I _am_ enjoying life," she grinds out through nearly-clenched teeth.

"Sure you are." Mikasa reaches into the picnic basket and grabs a wedge of cheese, roughly breaking off a hunk and chewing it slowly so she doesn't have to respond immediately. They sit quietly as they watch the passing clouds turn from dull gray to nearly black. Thunder rumbles low in the distance.

"I guess it's going to— oh," Mikasa says as drops start to fall from the sky. A fat raindrop lands on the exact center of Levi's head, making him shudder as water trickles down his scalp. It is followed by another, then a few more, then the sky opens up and the rain pours down in sheets. Large, cold raindrops splash against the ground, soaking the blanket and their clothes.

"We should head back. There'll be a fire going in the sitting room. We can stay in there and you can keep telling me how great your life is," Levi says, rising to his feet and neatly packing away the food. After Mikasa grabs her shoes and hat and gets up, he folds the wet blanket and places it in the basket. She wonders why he takes such good care of things that are already ruined. She wonders if that's a metaphor for what she's really feeling at the moment.

They slog back toward the farmhouse through the increasingly muddy ground. Mikasa carries her shoes, having figured that heels and mud are a terrible combination, although she worries her choice is ultimately pointless: they will be destroyed by the time she gets indoors regardless of whether the rain or the mud gets to them first. The ground underfoot is slippery and her toes sink into the earth with each step. Even burdened by the heavy basket, Levi outpaces her easily. He moves quickly, his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from the heavy drops falling from the sky. Mikasa finds herself walking quicker, then practically jogging to keep up with him. Her feet barely find purchase against the mud, and her skin is spattered with dirt from the knees down.

"Levi, wait up," she calls out.

Levi turns and waits for her, just in time for her to make one false step and for her feet to slip out from under her. They slip backwards, propelled by the slick earth, and she falls hard onto her hands and knees. Her hat and shoes go flying. Mud oozes between her fingers, cold and thick. Mikasa's face contorts into a disgusted grimace at the sensation. She attempts to push herself up to a standing position but her hands cannot find stable ground and she falls again, this time landing on her chest and stomach.

Levi watches the entire spectacle with a wry grin on his face, glad that the sound of the rain has masked his snort of laughter. He stands there staring at her, letting the rain wash over him, until Mikasa lets out a noise somewhere between an infuriated grunt and an anguished wail as she surveys the mud coating her body. Sighing exasperatedly at having to rescue the brat yet again — _For, what,_ _the_ _twentieth time?_ he thinks — he trudges over to her, scowling at the way the mud sucks at his boots.

He looks down at Mikasa, at her filthy hands and feet, the front of her dress stained brown from neck to knees. Her sodden hair hangs in her face like wet fringe. He is already calculating how long he will spend mopping the floor (because, as he insists, he is the only one who can do it properly) and how long he will need to heat the water for the bath that he will demand Mikasa take, though he can't imagine that she will refuse. "Need help?" he asks casually, putting down the basket and reaching out one hand to help her up. Levi does not even try to hide the amused grin that splits his face. He is quite pleased to realize that the moments where he can see Mikasa's stoic façade crack still fill him with almost childlike glee.

Raising herself up on her hands and knees, she glares murderously at him from under her hair. "Enjoying yourself?" she spits.

Ironically, her anger only makes him happier. "Immensely," he says, laughing.

"It's not funny!" Mikasa whines, her cheeks burning despite the cold rain that soaks her skin. She feels terribly embarrassed that Levi has seen her this way; although he has seen her battered and bloody, she has never felt truly foolish in his eyes until today. And now he is standing over her, laughing at her while she scrabbles for purchase against the wet earth. She feels several emotions bubbling in her chest at the same time, embarrassment and sadness and a brief flicker of a bloodlust she has not felt in years.

"Come on, get up. It's cold out here." Levi extends his hand further toward her. She takes his hand, making sure that the muddier of her two hands makes contact with his clean pale flesh, and squeezes, the dirt oozing between their clasped palms. "Very mature, Mikasa," he says snidely.

Just then she smiles at him, smiles wide and truly _happy_ in a way that he has never seen before, and throws herself onto her back, yanking Levi's arm down toward the ground.

His eyes widen as he falls, catching himself on his knees but unable to support his hands on the slick ground. He slides into the mud, filth coating his formerly spotless suit. He raises himself up and sits on his knees, examining the damage to his clothes, then looks up at Mikasa, his eyes and mouth wide and round with surprise. "What did you— You fucking brat—" he sputters.

Mikasa sits up, her front and back now coated with muck, watching Levi try to comprehend his reversal of fortune. Her eyes light up as he tries to formulate a sentence that will accurately reflect the extent of his shock and rage, producing fragments of sounds but never getting more than a few words out before giving up and trying another tack. She opens her mouth to make some kind of witty retort, but the only thing that comes out is a half-snorted snicker. Mikasa widens her eyes in surprise at the noise and purses her lips. She knows it's cruel to laugh at Levi when it is her fault that he's covered in mud, but she has never seen him this flustered before. Another snicker escapes her lips.

"Are you fucking _laughing_ right now?" Levi half-yells. "I'm going inside. You can stay out here for all I care," he grumbles and attempts to get up. He is able to rise up to a standing position, but as he takes his first step his now mud-caked foot slips out from under him and he falls, splashing Mikasa with more mud. She claps her hand over her mouth but cannot resist her snickers, which intensify to full-on guffaws. Her hand moves from her mouth and slaps against the wet earth as she laughs and laughs and laughs.

She is unable to stay sitting up and falls onto her back, convulsing with laughter. Levi's face shifts between a grin and a scowl, unable to decide whether he is more happy to see Mikasa like this or more enraged at her subterfuge, which will likely cost him his favorite summer suit. He settles on the former as he watches Mikasa, her eyes squeezed shut, her muddy body shaking.

But then she doesn't stop. "Okay, it's not _that_ funny," Levi objects.

"Yes it is!" she howls. He frowns, then leans over her, still lying on her back and giggling, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other in the mud. Levi slides his hands over hers, lacing their fingers together, pressing her into the wet earth with the weight of his body.

"What are you doing?" Mikasa asks, still chuckling, as she realizes Levi is half on top of her, his face mere inches from hers. He smiles, then closes the distance between their mouths. Her laughter ceases immediately. Mikasa inhales sharply as Levi's mouth opens and his tongue brushes against her still-closed lips. Unconsciously she opens herself to him and flicks her tongue against his, just briefly enough for him to growl deep in his throat, demanding more. He kisses her leisurely and deeply, his lips soft but firm. She returns his languid intensity, catching his lower lip between her teeth and pulling gently until he is the one gasping. Sweet rainwater drips between their lips as they push forward and release, punctuating with tongues and teeth the languorous interplay of their hungry mouths. Slowly, almost grudgingly, Levi pulls away, regarding her with heavy-lidded eyes. He still grips her hands as though she is the earth itself, as though he will float away if he ever lets go.

"What was that for?" Mikasa drawls, her lips curved in a dazed smile.

"To shut you up," he says tersely, but his dilated pupils and the heavy rush of breath from between his parted lips betray him. As she sees the desire standing out as starkly on his face as the mud on his previously pristine clothing, Mikasa starts to giggle once more, unable to contain the intoxicating rush of pure mirth that spills forth from her mouth, and Levi is forced — though, truthfully, quite unreluctantly — to kiss her again.

* * *

A/N: I didn't want to put this at the top because it'd spoil the ending for SNK fans who are also Monty Python nerds, but my alternate title for this one is _Mikasa and Levi Reenact the Battle of Pearl Harbor._


End file.
